Josephine Cox 3-Book Collection 2: The Loner, Born Bad, Three Letters. Josephine Cox

as he sometimes did if he thought the fox was about, and Davie heard him coming and sneaked away – and she wasn’t there to say goodbye? A sob rose in her throat, along with a terrible premonition of loss. The idea haunted her.

      Quickly now, she ran back, and creeping into the barn, she called his name. ‘Davie?’ The lamp was out; there was no answer. She went on, deeper into the barn to where they had sat together, and in the glimmer of starlight through the window she saw him, snuggled deep into the blanket, fast asleep. For a moment she watched him, as she dried her eyes.

      Carefully, she got to her knees and lifting the corner of the blanket, she slid in beside him. For a moment she just lay there, not daring to touch him for fear that he might wake. Instead, she looked at his sleeping face, and a tide of contentment washed over her. She took that moment to cherish him, and then she was pushing towards him, bathing in the warmth of his body, nervous that he might wake and send her away.

      He didn’t wake. Instead, in his slumbers, he must have sensed her there for he turned towards her and took her into his arms, and that’s how the two young people lay, until fingers of dawn crept through the darkness.

      Davie was the first to wake. And when he found himself holding her, he was shocked to the core. ‘Judy, what are you doing here? How long have you been here … Judy?’ She stirred, stretched her arms, but didn’t wake.

      Davie smiled. She was a funny little thing, he thought, his soft gaze sweeping her pretty face. She probably thought he would sneak off into the night the minute her back was turned. So she had come back … and he never even knew.

      He looked at her a moment longer, at that small cute face and the long brown hair that teased over her shoulder; raising his hand, he moved a stray strand from her forehead. My lovely little Judy he thought affectionately. I’ll miss you so much.

      He would miss everything, he thought – his parents and his grandfather, the sparsely furnished bedroom that on and off, had been his only real home these past few years, and the people of Derwent Street, with their familiar faces and cheery greetings.

      He would miss weekends helping Tom and Judy on the milk-cart, and he would miss the long meandering walks through the local fields and woods. He would miss the joy of swimming in the canal in the heat of a summer’s afternoon, and the all too rare visits into Blackburn Town, where he and his schoolfriends had wandered for hours amongst the brightly coloured market-stalls, clutching their saved-up pocket-money. His mam would never dig into her handbag again, he thought in sorrow, and fish out a threepenny bit from her purse, or, if he was lucky, a whole shilling. She’d give him a kiss to go with it, and a peppermint cream or a Spangle. His mam’s handbag, full of bus-tickets, lipstick and tweezers and a packet of Park Drive, had such a lovely smell … For a moment, the boy was lost in memories.

      Then his thoughts returned to the road ahead. Most of all, he would miss Judy, for she had not only been a friend to whom he could turn at any time, with her kind, warm nature she was also the loving, caring sister he had never had.

      He spent another moment gazing at her, remembering, before reluctantly slipping out of the blanket, covering her over to keep out the cold, and finding the pen and paper she had brought him. He struck a match and lit the lamp low, and in its soft halo of light he began to write the promised letter.

       Dear Grandad,

       I’m going away now, and I don’t know when I’m coming back. I don’t belong in Blackburn any more, not after what’s happened. I don’t know where I belong – all I know is that I’ve got to get away. Please don’t worry about me. Just look after yourself, and be strong. When I’m settled, I’ll write to you.

       I don’t blame you for throwing us out. Mam had caused you so much trouble, and I know you were at the end of your tether. But she’s gone now, and may God rest her soul. I shall pray for her every night. Will you tell her that, Grandad, when you visit her grave? I shall never forget her, never stop loving her. Will miss her forever.

       If you hear from Dad, will you please let him know there are no hard feelings, and I hope we’ll meet again someday. I shall be searching for him, every chance I get.

       I love you, Grandad, but it’s time you had your home back, and some peace and quiet. I want to find my way in the world. I’m nearly fourteen, and I don’t really know what I want to do. I’m afraid, and I’m excited. There are so many things I need to find out, and new places I want to go.

       I’m nearly a man now. And I need to prove I can do it all by myself.

       So, take care of yourself, Grandad, and please keep an eye out for Judy. She has been my friend all of my life, and she’s very precious.

       Give me your blessing, Grandad. I give you mine.

       Your grandson, Davie

      A tear fell from his sore eyes. Folding the paper into itself, he knelt beside Judy. ‘I’ve written the letter,’ he told her. Touching her gently on the shoulder, he raised his voice. ‘I have to go.’ Still no response. She was spark out! Laughing now, he gave her a little shake. ‘Hey! Lazybones, wakey wakey!’

      ‘Mmm?’ Sleepily opening her eyes, the girl saw him there and all her memories came tumbling back. She began to scramble out of the blanket. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ She looked out of the window. ‘Oh no! It’s morning.’

      ‘JUDY!’ Beth’s raised voice struck fear into their hearts. ‘Where the divil are you?’

      Hurrying to the barn door, Davie peered out through the cracks. ‘It’s your mam,’ he told Judy. ‘I’d best go.’ Running back to where she was brushing the horse-hairs from her skirt, he took her by the shoulders. ‘It’s time to say goodbye.’ He handed her the letter. ‘You will see that Grandad gets this, won’t you?’

      ‘You know I will.’

      He gazed at her, feeling lonelier than he had ever felt. ‘Thanks for everything, Jude.’

      ‘Where the dickens is that girl?’ Beth’s voice was even closer now.

      The boy turned and would have kissed her on the forehead, but suddenly Judy was kissing him, full on the mouth and with her arms round his neck. It was a fleeting kiss, but it spoke volumes.

      ‘I’ll write,’ Davie said, as he clambered out of the window.

      ‘Promise?’

      His promise was the smile he gave her. And then he was gone.

Chapter Seven

      ‘SO, THIS IS where you’ve been hiding out, is it?’ Beth said angrily, hands on hips. ‘What on earth d’you think you’re playing at, Judy? You’ve had me almost out of my mind with worry. It’s a good job I didn’t wake your father and have him going crazy! The poor man needs his rest after yesterday’s shenanigans.’

      Tutting and fretting, but greatly relieved at finding the girl, she queried, ‘I thought you didn’t like the spiders in the barn – so what are you doing out here in the cold, at this time of morning?’

      ‘Davie was here,’ Judy said simply.

      ‘Davie? Thank God he’s safe.’ Beth looked about. ‘Where is he? I’m going to give him a big breakfast and a bit o’ comfort, poor lad.’

      ‘He’s gone.’

      ‘What – back to his grandad?’

      ‘No. I don’t know where he’s gone.’ It only now occurred to Judy that he had not mentioned any particular direction.

      Beth was frantic. ‘Is he all right? What did he say?